CHAPTER XVI

Sirius barely glanced at the paper Peter was holding out for them before looking away with disinterest, borrowing his back further into the bark behind him.

Sighing again, James shifted on the branch he was sitting on, one of his shoes scraping gently against the blades of grass below as it swayed in the air.  Looked like the honor of reading Skeeter’s next article was all his. How lucky.

He waved his hand in Peter’s direction, beckoning him closer. 

Face filled with trepidation, Peter slowly complied. He was acting as if it was his turn to draw in Exploding Snap.

James could feel his unsure gaze on him as he rolled the Sunday Prophet open. As expected, the thing Peter was so worried about was taking up almost all of the front page. 

BLACK AND POTTER: BESOTTED MONSTER SUPPORTERS

by Rita Skeeter

Dearest readers, after tremendous difficulties while gathering —

Rolling his eyes, James moved away from Skeeter’s useless introduction. He wasn’t interested in her life story or any of her so-called hardships, not to mention that he was quite certain they were fictional. He skimmed the text, eyes widening as they finally snagged on something substantial.

— thinking back on our previous interview, it’s now clear to me that these rumours must have some grain of truth. After all, as I had gently probed Mr. Black about his family and his rather unfortunate disinheritance, Mr. Potter’s carefree mask dropped as with a flick of a wand. I would swear he was all but setting me on fire with his eyes. 

Truly, I had barely gotten a simple question out before he was interrupting our conversation, uncaring and hostile. It is interesting that this is the ideal that Hogwarts wants to present by choosing someone like that as their champion, is it not? Not everyone agrees however. A few girls from third year that I interviewed found the protectiveness between the pair very touching (and more than interesting, if their besotted looks and red cheeks were anything to go off from). 

‘There’s this closeness between them that’s hard to describe. It’s clear they would trust each other with their lives without a question. I once even saw them have what looked like a full conversation with just their eyes,’ said one girl from Hufflepuff that wished to remain anonymous. 

‘It feels a little like they’re in their own little world when they’re together. And that’s always,’ laughed another student, before giving a wistful sigh. ‘Imagine finding someone like that.’

James sucked in a quick breath, heat prickling on the back of his neck. What kind of article even was this?

According to them and nearly everyone I spoke to, the Potter-Black duo is practically inseparable. I find it difficult to properly illustrate the myriad of secret looks and silent conversations that occurred whenever I spoke to the two of them. Longing gazes, complicated feelings, one would almost think they’re watching Shakespeare’splay rather than seeing two supposed best friends interact. It surely seems there is something more than friendship, doesn’t it? Now, of course I don’t want to assume, I would never, though we all know what ‘closer than brothers’ means, don’t we—

James quickly skipped the rest of the paragraph, hot heat blooming in his cheeks. 

He wasn’t sure what expression was on his face, but it seemed different enough for Sirius to switch from disinterest to attention. Trying to focus on the words on the page, James resolutely ignored Sirius’ curious gaze on him. 

Skeeter was just trying to brew potions from water again, he firmly told himself. Her words were hardly worth more than the ink it took to print them. Not to mention that her calling them ‘supposed’ best friends made his blood boil. How dare she question something that obvious?

However, it begets a question that I have already hinted at one of our earlier issues: were they really chosen as champions, or did they trick their way in, refusing to separate? It seems, afterall, that they have trouble with that. 

But that is not everything. As I have already hinted in the beginning of this article, it has come to light that they both support the monstrosities committed by the cursed beings that we call werewolves. Some would call these beings harmless when the Full Moon passes, but don’t be mistaken. They’re still dangerous, in the same way that a sated vampire never stops being a threat. Every month the Moon twists their minds, deforms and poisons. They would do anything, kill anyone, only if it meant blood would flow. 

When I found this disturbing truth out and asked James Potter how long he’d been a werewolf supporter, he had unabashedly twisted the question around and asked me how long I’d been a human supporter, claiming that werewolves were people too. That was doubly curious to me since they have just recently encountered a wild werewolf themselves during the Tournament and Sirius Black was still nursing a broken hand, but neither seemed to care. The fact that three of the other champions also had to be treated by Madam Pomfrey immediately after the Task didn’t seem to hold much weight to them; I doubt they’d even spared it a thought. 

James scoffed under his breath. The picture squeezed in the middle right margin — an ad for one of the new brooms by Comet Trading — continued to move, the flyers waving in the air before they disappeared out of frame. James, who had spent hours reading upon the best racing brooms for his team in the past, ignored it, eyes already moving over the rest of the text on the page.

As before, the Potter-Black pair continued to be frustratingly arrogant, refusing any attempts at further questioning, so I was forced to take matters into my own hands.

The other champions weren’t very talkative either, though their reason was more understandable as they all still looked quite shaken by the whole ordeal. In fact, their behavior made me realise the stark contrast to the uncaring attitude of the Hogwarts pair and made me wonder.

All of them refused to speak of what happened, though Theodore Cinege, half of the Durmstrang champion pair, did eventually mention how powerful the Potter-Black duo was and claimed they had saved his and Bokorova’s — the other Durmstrang champion — life. What a lucky coincidence they had such knowledge.

James couldn’t help but roll his eyes, lips twisted in disgust. Skeeter wouldn’t know subtlety even if it met her and spit in her face. 

It certainly seems that they’re confident in their own abilities, perhaps a bit too much. One Ravenclaw working at the Infirmary told me that she not only overheard them clearly defending werewolves, but also ridiculing the Ministry. Sirius Black in particular, mocked its effectiveness, saying it was no wonder the Ministry wasn’t able to intervene in time. As the student confided, he even said that the ministry doesn’t have the best track record right now, which, as you can all agree, is clearly belittling the efforts our government goes to protect our country. James Potter then went on to discuss the supposed ‘inequality’ concerning magical creatures, laughable really —

He quickly skimmed the rest, only stopping near the bottom.

Many would call werewolves animals: dangerous, but thoughtless. It’s true in a sense, they’re not more at fault for acting the way they do than a stray rabid dog. But we all know what needs to be done with those.

There was a dull ache spreading in his mouth, and James realised he’d been clenching his teeth too tightly together. He forced himself to relax, though by the way Peter loudly shifted on his feet made it clear that he wasn’t very successful. The paper rustled slightly as he forced his fingers to stop clenching. 

It seems that with every task of the tournament, Potter and Black continue to burn more and more bridges. After the first task, they had somehow persuaded the rest of the champions to give up their prizes and were then seen carrying them back to the Forbidden Forest, towards the home of the giants. 

A strange behavior, especially considering how deadly those creatures are. Was one brush with death not enough for them? It’s true that some people grow addicted to risks, seeking thrill where they can. I can’t imagine any other reason for wanting to see those creatures again, especially concerning the recent giant attack near Glasgow. As you all surely remember, the devastation was accompanied by a large Dark Mark up in the sky.

Though it seems the champion’s little visit was innocent, associating with creatures like that in any way is certainly concerning. And now, with their stance towards werewolves revealedI must admit that I worry. With their focus on chasing glory, they might end up burning one bridge too many. Afterall, those who refuse to realise the truth about werewolves are almost as much a danger to us all as the beasts themselves. 

He stared at the words for a moment, before slowly moving his gaze over the rest of the page. Besides the dozen ads crowded in the margins on each side, there were only two smaller news nestled into the corners, almost swallowed by Skeeter’s large article above. Something about strangely disappearing cattle near the Highlands and repairs being done in the Leaky Cauldron. A few weeks ago, Mad-Eye Moody had tracked one of the Death Eaters here apprehending him but not — as the Prophet hadn’t failed to emphasize — before damaging most of the interior and even one of the outer walls.

James imagined that Skeeter would be fuming from having to share the front page, which made him more pleased than it maybe should have. 

Above all though, he was almost absurdly glad that the main article didn’t contain any pictures. If they tried putting in an image of him and Sirius with some stupid hearts drawn around, he was pretty sure he would break the camera that Skeeter's minion kept dragging around if he ever saw him again. On the other hand, he would probably do everyone a service by doing that. It was something to think about.

“...I told you it was bad,”  Peter said, wincing slightly when James looked up at him. 

He wrung his fingers as James wordlessly leaned forward on the branch to hand the newspaper to Sirius, who took it without a hesitation.

James felt torn between wanting to look at his face as he read and pointedly looking anywhere else. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to see, but he could feel his cheeks warming up even so. The whole situation was so messed up it made him want to slam his head back into the tree behind him. Maybe more than once. 

Skeeter had no business writing about their personal lives and dragging their names through the mud just to boost her sales. Even just thinking about the whole tangent about werewolves still made him see red. Liking them to rabid dogs…  

He glanced in Peter’s direction. “Does Remus know?”

Peter’s face clouded further with worry as he vehemently shook his head. “Not yet.”

He gingerly sat down on one of the branches while James nodded. The sound of students laughing and carelessly talking below the hill carried over to them, overly loud in the sudden silence.

Peter audibly cleared his throat to ask something, nervously jittering with his knee, but James’ willpower was only so limited when it came to his best friend. He couldn't help but glance over at Sirius.

His face was calm, leveled, but there was a certain paleness to it that wasn’t there before as he read. With stilled breath, James watched as he rapidly blinked, eyes seemingly snagging onto something, his fingers digging further into the paper. Then, his head shifted, as if he wanted to look up, and James quickly moved his gaze away.

“-alright?” Peter has just finished saying, staring at him expectantly. When no response came, he blinked. “James?”

Right, James reminded himself, we were talking.

“Sorry, Pete, what was it?”

“I asked if you’re alright,” Peter repeated, his voice quiet and careful. James saw his eyes flit to the left, towards Sirius, but resolutely didn’t follow.

“Yeah, of course.”  He shrugged, purposefully careless.

“Are you sure? A whole page in a Prophet like that…” Peter scratched at the back of his neck, his brows furrowing slightly.  “I mean, I knew she hated you two, but I never imagined she would get so personal. All the talk about being ‘more’ than friends,” he continued, and James bristled at the expression, “this is supposed to be a serious newspaper – Wait, what did I say?”

He stared at James, both puzzled and inquisitive, and James shook his head in dismissal, squeezing his teeth painfully together. “Nothing, Tail, just hate that word.”

Peter tilted his head in obvious confusion. Across them, Sirius had stilled, though his eyes stayed fixed on the paper.

“What word?” Peter asked hesitantly, but James waved his hand, signaling him to drop it. 

By the small frown between Peter’s brows, it was obvious he wasn’t pleased with that, but he didn’t protest.

“Alright, well, what was I – yeah, how can she just publish whatever she wants? I know you guys said she’ll do anything to help the paper sell but how is this even legal?”

“Joys of free country,” Sirius suddenly said, his tone dry. He threw the paper to the side and Peter let out a muted noise of protest at the action, watching it glide before falling onto the grass with wide eyes.

Sirius lifted an eyebrow. “Any complaints, Tail?”

Peter quickly shook his head. 

James smirked slightly, then felt his throat constrict with a sudden sense of wrongness. Sirius was pointedly looking everywhere but at him.

He shifted slightly, the bark dragging across his robes. “The parts about werewolves…” 

Running a hand through his hair, Sirius sighed. “Yeah. I know.” 

Peter looked between them with confusion, blond hair bouncing on his head as he all but twisted his neck with how fast he whipped his head around, but neither of them continued. 

“You should let Remus know, Pete,”  James said after a moment of quiet, nodding towards the fallen paper. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw Sirius twitch, as if he was debating himself on leaving as well before forcing himself to relax. The aborted motion had the hurt inside James’ throat growing stronger.

Peter nodded a few times, all but jumping from the branch he was sitting on. “Yeah, good idea, Prongs. He should know sooner than later.”

He stopped only for long enough to pick the abused and dirtied paper from the ground, then hurried off.

The silence that fell upon them was heavy; James instantly hated it. He could feel frustration and helplessness bubbling up inside him as seconds passed and Sirius still refused to look at him.

“So,” James cleared his throat, feeling awfully awkward in a way he hadn’t in years. 

Talking with Sirius had always been easy, and he detested the way a few words on a page had him feeling like something had shifted. He wouldn’t let it. “Skeeter’s disgusting prying aside, some of the quotes she included were a bit strange, don’t you think?”

“...I suppose,” Sirius said quietly, and James gave a puzzled blink at the subdued answer, before his body suddenly tensed, eyes widening with realization. The heat that spread across the back of his neck felt almost burning.

“I didn’t mean those,” he quickly said, heart beating too loud in his ears.

“In the—” He fought the urge to clear his throat again. “In the second part, her little crusade against werewolves. Skeeter knew things she had no way of knowing.”

Sirius’ finally eyes snapped to him, as if on their own volition. The silver of his irises was guarded, shoulders tense, but James still felt inexplicable relief. 

“When she talked about what the Ravenclaw helping in the Infirmary said to her. Hell, she all but recapped our whole conversation with Remus. Besides.” James shifted slightly forward, setting one of his feet on the ground. “I’m pretty sure there’re no Ravenclaws working there.”

Realisation dawned in Sirius’s face, his posture loosening slightly. “You’re right.”

“Which means…” he purposefully trailed off, secretly hopeful.

“...that she’d been listening.”

“Exactly.” James nodded, eyes glinting. He could almost ignore the remains of the tenseness still between them, as long as he didn’t think too much about it.

Sirius hummed slightly in thought. One of his hands had distractedly started to rip at a piece of bark next to his propped-up leg. If James didn’t know better, he’d say he was fidgeting, but that made no sense. 

“Pomfrey would never let her in, though,” he said.

“Yeah, no way, Pomfrey is unmovable like a rock when she wants to be. Skeeter must have planted some listening device in or something… maybe when everyone was still in the healing tent down here? I wouldn’t put it past her to be already thinking about what to print while everyone’s still freaking out about what happened.”

Sirius nodded his head, ripping a piece of bark away before looking at him again. “Yeah, maybe. But she’d have to time it well; Remus certainly hadn’t noticed her, and he was there since dawn, well before the Wing opened for visitors.”

“Maybe she slipped something under the door?” James thought out loud, but then dismissed the idea; someone would have noticed that. “Or she could have bribed someone to carry it inside. She’s bold enough to try slipping in herself too, and I doubt Remus or the other patients were awake the whole time.” The options were nearly endless, but James was sure they had to be on the right track. Skeeter had quoted them almost verbatim.

“True, though she’s not exactly inconspicuous,” Sirius added, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. 

James grinned. Skeeter, with her bright clothes, high voice and loud-clipping heels could be called anything but discreet. Still, it was good to cover all angles.

As Sirius’ smirk slowly widened into a small, tentative smile, James felt some of the tension finally leave him, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. He hadn’t even realised how tense he’d been holding himself until he’d stopped doing it.

“I wouldn’t put it past her to put on some disguise, Merlin knows the woman is crazy,” Sirius added after a moment, looking more at ease than a minute ago. “But either way, if she put something in, chances are it’s still there.”

James nodded in agreement, feeling more optimistic with each second. Skeeter might have targeted them, but now they finally had some way to fight back. If they managed to prove she was using questionable means to get her ‘articles’, they’d finally have something to hold over her.

“I doubt Pomfrey is just going to let us rummage through her things and disturb the patients, but Frank could help us out.” Easy way in, and with the Invisibility cloak, no one would be left wiser.

“Knowing us really gets people in trouble, doesn’t it?”

James shrugged, his robes rustling slightly. “He knew what he was getting into.”

Sirius hummed, not disagreeing.

For a moment, they stayed silent, the only sound the distant chatting of students around. James felt some of the earlier tension still prickling at his skin, but he didn’t mind. The only thing that mattered was that it was better than before. As long as Sirius looked at him, it was fine.

The leaves above them rustled quietly in the wind.

“Good catch by the way,” Sirius said finally, carelessly ripping off another piece of bark. “I haven’t noticed that at all.”

“Really?” James said before he could stop himself. He would have thought Sirius to be the first to see a connection like that. Skeeter had barely done anything to hide it.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, voice carefully level. “I was…” He turned his head to the side, staring at the Great Lake in the distance. The pressure in James’ throat returned with vengeance. “I didn’t see it at all.”

Predictably, Remus hadn’t taken the news very well. He stayed curled in his bed, buried under numerous blankets and refusing to leave the dorm for lunch. Peter wanted to bring him some food, but Remus gently rebuked him, saying he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to stomach anything. 

After seeing the dejected look on Peter’s face and the slumped line of his shoulders, Remus seemed to reconsider and asked them to bring him one of the pumpkin pastries. 

James wasn’t sure how he was planning to eat that when he had claimed he didn’t even want to see the simple soup Peter had recommended, but Remus always had a sweet tooth and strange belief that sweets, especially chocolate, solved about anything.

Ignoring the steady whispering that rose in volume whenever they so much as twitched, James reached over the table for one of the wrapped chocolate sweets, pocketing it in his robes. 

It’d get a bit sticky by the time they made it back to the dorm, but he doubted Remus would care. If he was feeling better, he’d inhale the thing even before properly unwrapping it; if he wasn’t, James figured they had bigger worries than a slightly melted piece of candy.

They’d already be done with the food now, well on their way back, if not for Peter claiming he had to taste whether Remus’ order was actually good enough and biting into the freshly made orange pastries.

“I get it now,” Peter spoke with full mouth, words barely understandable over the chewing, “it’s so so good.”

Sirius grimaced, his lips twisting as pulled away. He seemed to have shaken off whatever strange mood the article put him in, but he still didn’t turn to roll his eyes in James’ direction at Peter’s antics like he normally would. 

Clinging to normality, James pretended like he hadn’t noticed. Instead he toyed with the fork he’d been holding, waving it in between his fingers, twirling it slightly. Eating when being scrutinised by everyone was boring; not eating and being scrutinised even more so. 

He glanced up from the sharp points of the fork across the table, smirking slightly. “You sound surprised, Pete, but you already had one.” 

Peter sheepishly shrugged his shoulders before opening his full mouth, presenting them with an image James was certain they could have gone without. “Well, it’s just that good.” 

“Chew louder, Tail,” Sirius advised him drily. “I can almost hear what you’re saying over all the stuff in your mouth.”

Chastised, Peter’s mouth fell back shut, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Sorry,” he said, then flushed further when he realised his mistake, a few stray crumbs falling on the plate below him.

James couldn’t help but scoff in amusement.

“Whatever.” Sirius pushed himself to his feet, clearly annoyed. 

Normally, James wouldn’t hesitate to rise as well, recognising that whatever patience Sirius had for the rest of the group was spent up for one reason or another, but he found himself strangely frozen. His legs felt heavier than before, mind flashing with the images of Sirius avoiding his eyes at the tree, the tension coiled in his body, the carefully schooled expression.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure if his presence would be welcome. The thought threatened to push all remaining air out of his lungs. 

As if having some sixth sense for whatever was happening in his mind, Sirius stopped a few spaces away from their table, glancing over his shoulder.

The murmurs around them seemed to grow louder in volume.  James became vaguely aware of someone striding over to them from the side, black and green robes moving in between the rows of tables, but he didn’t stray his gaze. Waited.

Sirius lifted an eyebrow before turning away. A clear invitation to tag along.

Trying to suppress a smile, James found himself on his feet before fully making the decision to stand up. He stepped smoothly in between the approaching figures, ignoring their offended gasps.

“What? Potter! Where do you think you’re going?” Crouch called after him, Avery adding some stupid dig about the article, but James didn’t care enough to discern their words. It wasn’t like they mattered anyways.

It shouldn’t have been possible to catch up with Sirius without quickening his pace, but somehow it still happened before he crossed barely half the room. 

Sirius’ eyes were warm as they glanced at him from behind stray black strands. James could have sworn he saw a small tilt to the corner of his lips. He must have waited for him. 

A group of fourth years standing by the door parted before them, letting them pass through.

The fresh breeze outside felt like a soft caress against his skin. 

James hadn’t even realised how stifled the air inside was until he found himself taking a big gulp of breath. The sky was still as clear as it was in the morning, but it felt like days had passed since then. 

His ears were ringing a little, a faint, hollow sound. Almost as if  they were still expecting to have to listen to the buzzing, unending chatter that filled every corner of the Great Hall and were unsure what to do with the sudden quiet.

For a moment, they stayed silent, enjoying the reprieve before a set of hurried footsteps echoed behind them. 

James’ hand slid to his wand on instinct, expecting trouble, but it was only Peter, a hesitant expression on his face as he came to a halt before taking a small step closer.

“Sorry, a whole pandemonium broke out after you two disappeared. Crouch wasn’t very happy with being ignored.”

James scoffed, exchanging a look with Sirius.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to… well, I took a bit too many of these with me, so I was thinking…” He raised the small bundle of pumpkin pastries in his arms a little, giving them a sheepish smile. “Do you maybe want some?”

James blinked. That really was too many pastries. It was a miracle one of them didn’t end on the floor — well, at least not anywhere that he could see.

Peter’s hopeful expression stared back at them.

“...Fine.” Sirius sighed, outstretching his hand. “Give one here.”

Beaming, Peter quickly stepped in close, as if worried he’d change his mind.

“Nuh-uh,” James intervened, “that one is obviously superior and should be mine.”

“It’s the same exact shade of orange, Prongs.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Mr. Padfoot, thank you.”

Finding Frank Longbottom was easy. After an older student near the Hufflepuff common room revealed they hadn’t seen him since lunch, there were only two other places he could be at, and James knew that Ravenclaw already had the Quidditch pitch reserved for the afternoon. Which had led them here. In front of the gilded frame with a large fruit bowl that James detested with burning passion. 

He had grown up with magic, had known that some books could bite before he could even fully walk, but there was still something incredibly unsettling about a pear that giggled, he wasn’t taking any other opinions on that. 

Some things were normal, some were weird, and tickling a pear that giggled was firmly in the ‘weird’ territory. Truth be told, James had a sneaking suspicion it was Dumbledore who installed it here. He no doubt thought it was hilarious.

“I’ll never understand your issue with this,” Sirius told him, as he lifted his hand towards the painting and James frowned, crossing his arms.

“You have to admit it’s suspicious as hell.”

“Because you’re making it so.”

The secret passage opened, as if sensing they were capable of standing there and debating the shiftiness of fruit for hours.

Bickering, they stepped inside, the smell of freshly baked bread and cinnamon filling their noses. 

The room was bathed in the warm light of nearby fires and stacked with four long tables resembling the ones above in the Great Hall. House elves flitted between their smaller preparation tables and three large, iron pots lined by the left wall, each of them with high wooden steps leading to the very top. 

One elf was just precariously balancing at the highest step, scooping freshly-cut meat into the boiling broth below. The large cutting board in his hands was almost as big as his shoulders and head combined, but he didn’t seem to be struggling.

Little to the side, two smaller elves were already heading towards him with trays full of diligently cut spring onions and carrots, moving easily between the other elves running about and preparing food. The lunch had barely ended two hours ago, but preparations for dinner were already in full swing.

A blur had almost collided with him, the running elf quickly breaking from his rush to bow to him, muttering apologies before he was off again.

Sirius gestured somewhere to the back of the room. Frank was kneeling by one of the preparation tables to be as close to the elves’ height as possible, though he still towered above them by a large margin. 

Brow furrowed a little in concentration, it was clear he was busy trying to listen to instructions of the small elf next to him. When he noticed them though, he raised his hand in a wave, flour flying off his hands in small white puffs.

“–right so now I only have to roll it out and then cut it?” he was just asking as they finally came closer. 

The elf instructing him nodded vigorously, her bright yellow scarf dangling dangerously close to the floor. It looked suspiciously close to a Hufflepuff one. It was clearly too long for her, wrapped around her neck at least five times and yet still reaching all the way to the ground on one side.

“Exactly, Mr. Longbottom. Just…don’t add anymore flour.”

Frank laughed loudly. “I’ll try, Leeny.”

Leeny didn’t look very convinced, and for a good reason. The dark blue dough on Frank’s table was surrounded by what looked like small mountains of flour.

“Are you trying to poison the whole school, Longbottom?” Sirius asked drily as they stopped in front of them, him and James squatting down so they were more on their level.

Frank huffed out an amused breath as he lifted his head from the table, a wide smile spreading on his face. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad! Tell them, Leeny.”

“Mr. Longbottom is trying very hard.”

A smirk settled on James’ mouth. 

Across the table, Frank let out an offended gasp. “Leeny! I’m hurt. Why can’t you say I’m doing good?”

Leeny didn’t bat an eye. “House elves aren’t in habit of lying, Mr. Longbottom.”

James howled in laughter at the betrayed look on Frank’s face, Sirius snickering as well. A group of elves squeezed by them, carrying a large fish. The small distraction gave James enough time to calm down. 

Somehow, they got roped in cutting cucumbers. James wasn’t sure how exactly they ended in that position, only that Leeny was one of the most stubborn and straight-forward house elves he’d ever met. She said they were ‘taking too much space doing nothing’ and the next thing they knew, they each had a knife in their hand and a box of cucumbers next to them.

James wasn’t about to complain. He wasn’t the best with potions or with the complicated school of magic that was baking, but cutting up vegetables was easy. More importantly, it gave them time to talk away from prying ears and the unending chatter that went everywhere they did. 

The last day had made him detest rumours even more than he already did. Something he didn’t believe was possible before today.

As James had predicted, Frank had immediately agreed to let them into the Infirmary after the closing hours. They’d have more time to search that way, without random students getting in their way or Madam Pomfrey breathing down their neck. 

The only complication was that they would need to get out before Frank finished cleaning up. After the visiting hours were over, the doors to the Infirmary automatically closed with a spell and would open only from the inside. Madam Pomfrey had once joked it was to stop the unwanted flow of visitors. Judging by  how much she disliked people disturbing her patients, James’d wager that was about right.

“If you think it’ll help, it’s no issue,” Frank said easily. “I’m sure Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t mind it either, if it wasn’t for the recent accident with the mandrakes. She’s been lamenting about it daily and now checks everything like a hawk.”

He sighed a little. “Can’t blame her for being cautious, of course. Not with her having to see Dirk in the Infirmary everyday.”

James swallowed heavily. “I’m sorry. I know you and Prewetts have been eager for him to wake up already.”

“Yeah…but it’s alright, he’ll wake up as soon as they regrow.” 

The smile on his lips grew shaky, voice becoming thicker. “He’d be furious with what that journalist wrote in the Prophet, you know? And he’d be proud of you saying what you did about the werewolves. So–” he wiped under his eye with his hand, swallowing painfully, before continuing, lips bravely curling into another smile. “So yeah, I really hope you find something on her.”

“We’ll find something.” Sirius nodded solemnly and James mirrored him, his back straightening with iron conviction.

“On Thursday then,” Frank decided. “That’s when I have my next night shift.”

The next few days passed by painfully slowly. James wasn’t sure how many more times he could overhear another comment about him and Sirius without snapping and that wasn’t even counting all the talk about them being monster supporters. It seemed like nobody in the castle had better things to do than gossip.

Once again, he was more than glad for Professor McGonagall and her stern attitude. Transfiguration was about the only lesson where he didn’t have to deal with giggling echoing around the classroom whenever he so much as shifted closer to Sirius. 

Defense Against the Dark Arts was among the most infuriating, because sharing class with Slytherins always meant trouble. It was also the best class because it meant James had the opportunity to wipe the floor with whoever tried to refer back to the article. 

“If that isn’t the infamous Potter,” mocked one annoying Slytherin whose name James refused to learn on pure principle alone. They had gotten paired for a quick dueling exercise, and James couldn’t wait to be rid of him. His haughty way of speaking was grating on his nerves. “You’re so tense. Can’t wait to get back to your other half already?”

“Yes,” James said, because it was the truth. He watched with satisfaction as the guy’s smirk dropped off his face before he sent him flying with a quick Repulso. The guy’s defense was so bad it was straight up laughable.

“Potter,” Avery seethed when he faced off against him next. He had the habit of scowling with his whole face, which was unfortunate, as it left the bandage over his nose loosely dangling on one end. 

“Greenery,” James nodded in greeting, feeling a savage smile spread across his lips. “Nice bandage.” 

Predictably, Avery scowled even harder. It was clear that the memory of the Quidditch match was quite a sore spot for him. That was good; James was counting on that. 

“Shut up,” he growled, wildly flicking his wand.

James only slightly tilted his head to the side, the spell uselessly slipping past his ear. It connected with the desk behind him with a loud splinterring noise.

“Oh wow,” he deadpanned. “I’m so scared.” 

The smirk on his face widened at the expression on Avery’s face. Slytherins really were too easy to rile up.

At the end of the class, the Slytherins have halted their comments. Three of them that have faced Sirius pretended to be looking everywhere but at him, and James even caught Snape limping, glaring at them with more fire than usual. 

James lifted his eyebrows at him in challenge, then looked away, losing interest. 

Sirius caught his gaze and grinned darkly, obviously pleased with himself. James didn’t ask what Snape had said to him, but it must have been a lot for Sirius to go all out on him. Knowing Snape, he was better off not knowing.

It was clear that after a few days, some idiots with no self-preservation would start stirring things up again, that was inevitable. They had ruffled a few feathers today, and James knew there were only a few things more important to the Slytherins than pride. Still, the class left him feeling pretty satisfied with himself. It felt good to let off some steam.

When Thursday finally came, it was with a surprise; the Headmaster finally announced the date of the next task. James was more than glad for it; this way, at least, there was something new for people to talk about.

“Isn’t it a little too soon, though?” Peter asked as they walked to their first class of the day,  weaving in between the rest of the students hurrying to class. 

Peter’s own pace was uncharacteristically brisk. There were only a few minutes left before the clock would strike eight, and while Professor Sprout was normally a gentle, understanding lady, she detested tardiness with striking passion. Anyone who came in late was stuck with the mind-numbing duty of scrubbing all the flowerpots in the Greenhouses. Without any magic, of course. James had a theory that all the teachers were secretly sadists.

James squeezed between two seven years blocking the path down the stairs. “It’s still two weeks away, Pete. Not like we can do much not knowing what it is anyways.”

“Two whole weeks before another mortal doom,” Remus said from behind him, no doubt shaking his head. “Sure, so much time.”

They were taking two steps at a time now, but didn’t stop James from rolling his eyes. “You know, Moony, I feel like you’ve gotten snarkier over time. Guys, didn’t he get snarkier?”

“No doubt about that one,” came Sirius’ dry response from ahead. “Now walk faster or I’m leaving you all here.”

James grinned, but did lengthen his strides to catch up with him. “You wouldn’t.” 

Sirius glanced at him, shrugging.

“He wouldn’t, right?” he heard Peter’s unsure voice a few paces behind.

“With us? He so would,” Remus responded, panting between his words.

Going through the castle under the Invisibility Cloak was almost too easy. As planned, they’d waited in the hall before the clock struck ten, the faint ringing of the bell echoing in their ears. The hallways were already dark and deserted, lit with only a few stray torches.

As the bell stilled, Frank’s short, black hair appeared in the front door of the Infirmary. He looked around, obviously searching for them, then stepped back, holding large wing of the door open. 

“I really hope you’re here or I’ll feel like an idiot,” he whispered as James and Sirius slipped through, and James chuckled quietly.

“We’re here.” 

Frank jumped up a little, obviously not expecting them to stand behind him, then visibly relaxed, relieved. 

“Good. Pomfrey’s already in the back, working on rewriting some old herbaries. I’m supposed to finish cleaning up in about ten minutes, but I can stretch it out if you want to, I doubt she’ll notice. She’s really into calligraphy these days.” 

“No need, we’ll just take a quick look around. Tell us if you find anything suspicious, you know this place better than we do.”

Frank nodded. They followed him out of the small hallway and through another set of open doors into the medical wing lined with white stretchers. 

There were only a few patients, all of them already sleeping under whatever healing potions Pomfrey gave them, so James slipped the Invisibility cloak off, throwing it over his hand. 

It was better to be ready, in case Pomfrey came in to check on something, but the sight of the middle of his arm missing was a bit concerning. For the sake of his own sanity, James pretended like he hadn’t noticed.

The room was only dimly lit, but it was enough for the simple search they’ve wanted to make. Wordlessly, they split up, Sirius heading for the large shelves near one of the walls and James examining the boxes lined with scrolls near the entrance. 

It would be easy to slip something in, he mused, searching for anything remotely suspicious, but without success.

They worked their way through another set of shelves and when that still yielded no results, the side storage room near the front door. The space was crowded with precariously stacked boxes, jars and vials, a few of them filled with highly questionable things.

James’ lips twisted in disgust as he set down a large ceramic pot with what turned out to be harpy nail clippings.

“Any luck?” he whispered, turning to Sirius, only to receive a disappointed shake of head.

Great, James sighed.

“So she either already took it back…which is unlikely. Or she, I don’t know,” — he made a frustrated noise, throwing his hands up —  “never even was here? But then how could she—”

A noise from outside the door made him press his lips together, voice dying out. He hadn’t even realised how loud he was getting. His hand itched closer to the Invisibility Cloak, but no other sound carried over to them.

“Must have been Frank,” Sirius said quietly after a moment. He turned his gaze back to James. “Look, it’s fine. We know she has listened in somehow, that’s all that matters. We’ll figure the rest out.”

James’ shoulders slumped slightly. Swallowing his disappointment, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Yeah, you’re right.” 

Sirius briefly squeezed his arm. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

They had barely opened the door leading out of the storage when they heard the front gate open, hushed voices carrying over to them.

They jumped back into the shadows just as Dumbledore’s figure came into view. 

He was dressed in his normal purple robes, but with the outer layer missing and with a nightcap already on, as if he was in the midst of getting to bed when he was called outside. He was carrying something large and solid. 

As Professor McGonagall behind him came into view as well it became clear they were both carrying different ends of a statue. 

James felt his throat close up with dread as moonlight hit the stone surface. 

He recognised that face. That was Penelope Nottington, one of Ravenclaw’s new substitute players. She was only in her second year. He saw little Henry talking to her a few times after matches, the two of them laughing. The memory was a stark contrast to the lifeless stare in her eyes now, and James found himself swallowing heavily, looking away.

Even so, the foreboding, choking feeling didn’t lessen.

“Mr. Longbottom, call Madam Pomfrey,” McGonagall briskly told Frank when he hurried to meet them, voice quiet but sharp. 

The Hufflepuff boy quickly nodded and ran away while Dumbledore and McGonagall moved to heave the statue on the nearest bed. The stretched squeaked slightly under the weight.

Another set of hurried footsteps. The figure of Madam Pomfrey still in her white robe passed by the storage room, quickly followed by Frank. As their footsteps stilled by the bed, they heard her take in a sharp breath.

“What happened?” she asked thinly.

“Another attack, Poppy.” Dumbledore spoke, his voice kind but tinted with deep sadness.   “One of the prefects found her near the stairs to the Astronomy Tower.”

There was a heavy, loaded silence. James and Sirius barely moved a muscle.

“Mr. Longbottom,” Pomfrey finally said, turning to him with her lips pursed. “Thank you for your help today. You can leave.”

“But Madam-”

“It’s alright. We’ll take care of it.”

There was a small intake of breath, as if Frank wanted to protest before swallowing it down. Footsteps echoed through the room as he moved, and they saw his hunched figure walk by before the door squeaked slightly and fell shut behind him.

Minerva sighed quietly. She crossed her arms tightly, almost as if she were suddenly too cold and wanted to preserve some warmth. “It’s almost like back then, isn’t it? The message, the petrification, it’s all too similar. And then poor Myrtle…”

Madam Pomfrey nodded, face grim. “It has to be connected.”

“Let us not jump to hasty conclusions, Poppy—” Dumbledore started, but Pomfrey jumped in, her voice rising and full of indignation.

“Don’t patronise me when I have two petrified students in my Wing, Albus.”

Dumbledore stayed silent. For the first time since he’d known him, James thought that he looked like didn’t know what to say.